


Mr. Unforgettable

by mydrunkjoey



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Borussia Dortmund, Established Relationship, M/M, Pierreus, also kinda short....., fluffiest fluff i've ever fluffed.....
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 15:51:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2738198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydrunkjoey/pseuds/mydrunkjoey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's impossible to hate Marco. He's a funny guy, witty, easy going, talented as hell, and fuck-- he's gorgeous. He isn't beefy, isn't being swallowed up by his own biceps but lean and faintly toned, and he's smaller. (Not necessarily by a whole lot, but enough that when he holds Marco close, they mesh quick and easy like adjacent puzzle pieces.) Physicality and obvious (though general) traits aside, Auba loves Marco most when he swears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr. Unforgettable

      It's impossible to hate Marco. He's a funny guy, witty, easy going, talented as hell, and fuck-- he's gorgeous. He isn't beefy, isn't being swallowed up by his own biceps but lean and faintly toned, and he's smaller. (Not necessarily by a whole lot, but enough that when he holds Marco close, they mesh quick and easy like adjacent puzzle pieces.) Physicality and obvious (though general) traits aside, Auba loves Marco most when he swears.  
      See, he doesn't mean that in a sexual way, though he has to admit, with a body like that, and a voice thick like caramel, as cliché of a comparison that is, there's no way Auba could deny that he loves Marco in that way as well. But Auba's main interest comes in conversation.

      Marco loves partying, it's a given, he matches it similarly to Auba. But more than just the party, they love the after parties. When or how their after parties strayed from actual bars to visiting secluded parts of town, Auba doesn't remember. But it was early on enough that Auba has enough memories to last another lifetime, and is consistently smart enough to choose against vodka in order to remember such. (Even when they do go for stronger shots, Marco's a little hard to forget.)

      “Shit.”  
      “What?” It had stopped raining an hour ago, but the grass is still damp, and though it's ironic considering their footballing career, Auba's reluctant to get his jeans stained. Marco's quick to plop down however, and Auba-- well, Auba's quick to follow him.  
      “I left my ring at the bar.”  
      “Oh. Wanna call Kevin? He might still be there.”  
      “Nah. Don't wanna disturb him,” Marco murmurs, eyes dropping to the grass as he plucks off a handful. He looks so pitiful that Auba almost wants to run back and get it himself, though if he's allowed to be corny, every moment spent away from that blonde man-child, is a moment wasted. It takes him a second to ponder what to say next, though Marco seems content in the silence-- disregarding the fact that he'd just lost an expensive piece of jewellery.  
      “You can wear my ring.” And it's such a stupidly metaphorical statement that Auba gets a little warm. Marco stares at him under long eyelashes, his gaze unwavering and full of interest. Beginning with one small curl on his lips, he breaks into a toothy grin, and the Gabonese finds himself mirroring it.  
Auba doesn't expect Marco to actually extend a hand though, fingers long and ridden with a life's worth of fights. It's nerve-wracking, and he scoffs, both embarrassed and happy beyond belief at the reassurance. Like they, mutually expressed lovers, weren't just built on nighttime outings, morning kisses, and warm embraces, but something true. Something a little more unseen and spoken of in hushed tones.  
       So Auba holds Marco's hand, gentle and careful, a chunky metal ring in his other palm. He steals a glance, looking for any sign of resistance, except Marco's grinning at him, all cheeky and goddamn cute. It's the sort of atmosphere that makes Auba giddy, that makes him fall all over again with ten times the intensity, and that has him kissing Marco's rough hands instead. He kisses it once, and skims his lips over pale knuckles before flipping the blonde's hand over.  
      “There you go then, princess,” Auba teases, placing the ring atop Marco's palm.  
      “Oh fuck off.”  
      “Language, Reus!” Maybe it's the teasing that riles him up, but Auba gets confident and slides an arm around Marco's waist, finger's pressing against the other man's shirt. To which Marco rolls his eyes with brimming canine teeth, and slips the ring onto his middle finger.  
      “You're just jealous that it looks better on me,” Marco hums, not-so-subtly leaning into his boyfriend's chest like it's second nature. (Auba's been smiling so long that it hurts.)  
      “I look better on you,” he cooes, quick and witty. It actually sparks a seductive, oh-so-charming (though when is Marco not?) grin, and Auba forgets to play it cool, too happy to care at this point.  
      “You look better _with_ me.” That one-word change triggers Auba to lean in, capturing Marco mid-chuckle into a warm, wet, kiss.  
      “I love you,” Auba murmurs, voice deep and slightly raspy from the alcohol. He can taste the blonde, Marco's gum, Marco's evening shots, Marco's tongue-- Marco's fucking tongue. They're smiling into the kiss, like lovesick junkies (exactly lovesick junkies) before Marco pulls away. He's so pink, his cheeks rosy and doll-like.  
      “I love you too, you little shit.” And Auba falls another mile.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how this fic got finished to be honest, because when I was writing it, I was looking at a gif of Pierreus hugging and it was so cute and distracting. But it was inspiring I guess...! 
> 
> Thanks for all the recent kudos and such! xo
> 
> I'm still lazily pushing through a Kagakreutz fic, but it's long, so I might write other things first ha. (Suggestions are nice?)


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